


Happy Birthday, Dear

by DeGuerre



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Birthday Fluff, Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Male-Female Friendship, Past Sexual Assault, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeGuerre/pseuds/DeGuerre
Summary: Rita Farr has always hated her birthday, but Larry makes her realize maybe it isn't so bad after all.
Relationships: Rita Farr & Larry Trainor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	Happy Birthday, Dear

To say Rita Farr hated her birthday would be an understatement. It was a never-ending yearly reminder of her failures, her pain, the childhood she never had, and all the milestones that would never come. Her birthday came with memories of terrible things. On her 6th birthday, all she’d wanted was a cake topped with 6 colorful candles and to spend a day at home playing. Instead, she spent it feeling nauseous from motion sickness in the back of her parents’ car for 6 hours as they drove her to yet another pageant she didn’t want to participate in. 

She spent her 13th birthday having uppers shoved down her throat so she could get through a 12-hour day of filming while suffering from a 101-degree fever. She was thankful for the rest when she eventually fainted and had to spend the night in the hospital.

Most girls look forward to their 16th birthday. They can’t wait for the lavish parties and frilly gowns. Tiaras and father-daughter dances. Rita didn’t get those things. Her 16th birthday started behind the closed door in the office of a producer who took things from her she can never get back. It ended in the back of a cab trying desperately to hold both her emotions and the tattered pieces of her blouse together. She arrived home to parents who asked if she got the part, but never asked her why she was sobbing. 

She spent her 21st birthday in a hotel suite alone, drunk and crying into her pillow because existing hurt too much to do anything else.

She spent her 35th as a shapeless blob trying to will her body back together.

Today was her 100th birthday and she’d decided long ago to no longer bother acknowledging her birthdays as anything other than another day. She would spend it like she spent every other Sunday, curled up on the sofa for an afternoon nap while Larry puttered around the kitchen preparing dinner, and Billie Holiday played softly in the background. She was just starting to doze off when she felt something soft, warm, and heavy being spread over her and tucked around her shoulders. 

“What’s that?” she mumbled, too sleepy to pry her heavy lids open and find out for herself.

“It’s a weighted blanket,” Larry replied softly. “Go to sleep. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so.”

Rita didn’t have the energy to argue so she did what she was told. The weight of the blanket made her feel like she was being held together and didn’t have to concentrate so hard to not lose her form. With her mind relaxed, she quickly drifted off. Three hours later Larry was shaking her awake.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. You were out so long I was starting to worry,” he said.

She raised her arm above her head, stretching her long, lithe body with a groan.

“That blanket is a marvelous invention,” she said softly, finally opening her eyes.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s your birthday present. Dinner’s ready and I made your favorites.”

He knew her better than she knew herself sometimes and hurried away before she could yell at him for acknowledging that she was now another year older. She just rolled her eyes and followed him to the table, finding a plate heaping with steak, chicken cordon bleu, and lobster tails.

“Why Larry Trainor, I do believe you’ve outdone yourself. This is incredible,” she said after her first bite of steak.

“You flatter me, darling. Enjoy.”

Rita gleefully ate while Larry watched her, happy that she always enjoyed his cooking so much. His portion had already been set aside to enjoy later from a safe distance. As she was finishing her last few bites, Larry excused himself to the kitchen and returned with a beautiful white cake topped with 6 colorful candles with the words “Happy Birthday Rita” written in red frosting.

“Oh Larry,” she gasped, hand flying to her mouth and tears welling in her eyes.

“I know how much you hate it, but I couldn’t let the day go by without at least doing a little something special.”

She blew out the candles and enjoyed a large piece before heading to the bathroom with a glass of wine to relax in a bubble bath while Larry cleaned up and ate his dinner. They met back up on the sofa and she cuddled up beside him as they settled in to watch a movie—their usual Sunday evening activity. As they watched Judy Garland belt out “The Man That Got Away,” Rita thought for the first time that maybe her birthday wasn’t so bad after all. For the past 60 years she’d had Larry, and every year he did something nice for her…something that left her with a wonderful memory. 

“Thank you, Larry,” she said softly, stretching upward to press a kiss to his bandaged cheek. She couldn’t see it, but she knew he was smiling. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

“Happy birthday, dear.”

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> This was sparked by Larry saying "good morning, dear" when he found Rita asleep at the table in the finale. Rita's tragic 16th birthday memory was inspired by the flashback scene of Rita going to that producer's office. There's a brief look of terror on Rita's face as the secretary is leaving which makes me think that wasn't the first time something terrible had happened to her in a producer's office.


End file.
